


i won't say i’m in love

by stevebuckiest



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boat Sex, Boats and Ships, Bottom Steve Rogers, Drunken Shenanigans, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Kind of!, M/M, Meddling Natasha Romanov, Miscommunication, Praise Kink, Secret Crush, Sweet Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Top Bucky Barnes, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: In which Bucky is a grumpy lawyer on a company retreat going through WAY too much effort to hide the fact that he's completely smitten with the always cheerful boat mechanic from his coworkers, who are under the impression that he wouldn't know romance if it bit him in the ass.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 34
Kudos: 201





	1. who d'you think you're kidding?

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is the sfw chapter. bear with me.

Most days, Bucky appreciates the convenience of working side to side with his closest friends. Having known Nat since high school and Sam and Tony since they were all pre-law, the comradery makes their work flow almost seamless. Bucky loves what he does, and he knows his partners do as well. It takes a certain amount of dedication and hard work to become a lawyer, let alone start your own practice. Not having to do that alone has been amazing, and Bucky loves that the other members of his firm match his level of passion work ethic.

Well, they do most of the time.

Currently, they’re trying to convince him to take _three weeks_ off and go on a “much needed” vacation with them to a resort that’s located about an hour away from where they live. He doesn’t know what they mean by “much needed”- what, they don’t get enough sun? They live in Florida for god’s sake.

Tony is still trying to sway him, regardless. “Barnes, you are an example of a classic workaholic. C’mon, it’s not like we can’t afford to take a break! We all deserve it. You wouldn’t deny your best buds a chance at a little R and R, right?”

Bucky sighs and resists the urge to rub his temples. Sometimes his friends give him a headache. “It’s not like you guys can’t go without me, Tony.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and props her feet up on Bucky’s desk. He shoots her a dirty look, but she doesn’t even bat an eye. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Or in this case, makes James a dull boy,” adds Sam. Bucky glares at him, betrayed.

It was bad enough they had invaded his office in the first place, but now they were ganging up on him? He huffs in annoyance. “What if we have a client with an emergency?”

Tony throw up his hands. “I’ll send them to Maria Hill. She’s one of the best and she owes me a few favors. Stop trying to make excuses! Really, it’s like you don’t even want to hang out with us or something.”

“Maybe I just don’t like the beach,” Bucky says petulantly. “I just love my job, is that a crime?”

Sam crosses his arms and gives Bucky his best disapproving glare. “No, but not taking a vacation for two years should be.”

Natasha smirks at him and Bucky has to restrain himself from pushing her legs off his desk. She’d kill him if he did. “James, you could consider this a work retreat if it gets the stick out of your ass,” she says. “Also, if you don’t go, I’m going to call your mother and tell her you’re overworking and need an intervention.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t,” he hisses, but he knows better. She would. Natasha and Winifred have always gotten along too well for Bucky’s liking and he knows that they still text occasionally. His mother will fly down here from Brooklyn in a heartbeat if Natasha calls her. Especially if it concerns her only son.

“Oh, I think you know I would.”

This time, Bucky does give in to the urge to rub his temples. This is giving him a headache. “You guys just want to go to the beach and get drunk, don’t you” he accuses in a last-ditch attempt to sidetrack them.

It doesn’t work. Tony smiles wide and spreads his arms. “That’s the whole point of a retreat, Barnes. Now, are you coming with, or are you gonna stay home and let your mother fly down here and fuss over her baby boy?”

“Fine!” Bucky snaps, finally giving up. His friends are unfortunately very persistent and he knows that they’re not going to give up until he gives in. Plus, he has no desire to be therapized and force fed by his mother for an entire three weeks. “I’ll go, but don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Natasha finally removes her feet from his desk and moves to get up, shooting him a wicked smile as she does. “How could you not be happy, James? We’re going to paradise.”

~

Although Bucky is still lowkey (highkey) resentful about being forced on this trip, he has to admit that Shield Resort is lovely. The beach is easily accessible, there’s a restaurant with an outdoor patio, a spa, boat rentals, hot tubs, even a yoga studio. That’s not even mentioning the guest accommodations- Bucky can’t remember the last time he slept in a California King. The mattress is basically a slab of heaven.

Still, he doesn’t have to let his friends know that he enjoys it.

“Chop, chop, Buckaroo! We have things to do, sights to see!”

Bucky hasn’t even been in his room for five minutes before Tony is already knocking at his door. He hasn’t even unpacked yet, for crying out loud. What could Tony already be insisting that they do?

He flings open his door in order to find out. “What are you talking about? We just got here. It’s barely three o’clock yet.”

Tony is standing in front of him with an almost maniacal grin. That can’t be a good sign. “Exactly! The day is still young. We’re going sailing! They have rentals down at the docks.”

Bucky doesn’t even wait two seconds to shake his head. “No.”

“But…”

“What do _any_ of you know about sailing, Tony,” Bucky interrupts. He holds up a hand to shut Tony’s protest up before it starts. “I am not going to die at sea because my coworkers don’t know port from starboard.”

“You’re underestimating my skills, James,” comes Natasha’s drawl from behind him. “Starboard is left, Port is right, correct?”

(Incorrect)

Despite his best attempts, Bucky isn’t able to convince his friends not to rent a sailboat, even by trying to use his best Lawyer Voice that is always able to command a courtroom. Well, they’re all lawyers, too, so he guesses that maybe they’re immune to it. Unfortunately.

Bucky isn’t remotely surprised when the sailboat adventure immediately goes south.

By immediately, he means before they even untie from the dock.

It’s Tony’s fault, of course. He insisted on wearing one of those tacky (“it’s _jaunty_ , Barnes”) Captain’s hats, and in true Tony fashion has a matching cane and white sailor’s shirt to go with it. Like he’s on the goddamn _Love Boat_ or something. Bucky doesn’t know when, or how, but Tony has somehow already managed to get tipsy. Bucky is just thinking it’s a good thing that he has the cane, or else he wouldn’t be able to walk without falling over when out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tony climbing into their rented sailboat cane in hand, grinning like a madman.

“Tony,” he goes to warn, but he sees Sam walk up with him and stops, assuming everything will be fine with Sam near him to keep him in line.

Boy, is he wrong.

Buck is still on the docks, inspecting how to untie the boat when it happens. He isn’t even looking when it does, all he hears is “C’mon, Sammy, let’s play _Titanic_. I’ll be Jack,” followed by a protest from Sam and a few muffled _thumps._

Then, “I’m the King of the Wor-“ cut off by a screech and loud ripping sound.

That’s how Bucky ends up having to call the resort help desk about the sail Tony ripped with the pointed end of his cane. They’ve barely been at the resort for an hour. Vacation is _fun_ , huh? _Relaxing_? Somehow, Sam and Nat took Tony and fucked off to the bar and left him alone to deal with the worker who was going to fix the sail and discuss repair costs.

Funny how that works.

When they were leaving, Natasha just patted him on the chest and cheerfully said “These are the perks of being the Dad friend, James.”

He feels more like a babysitter, currently.

It’s been fifteen minutes and he’s still waiting for the repairman to get here. Bucky is started to get annoyed, has actually just started pacing the length of the dock in front of their damaged boat when a bright voice comes from behind and pretty much scares the daylights out of him.

“Hi, you must be Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky whirls around, ready to scowl at whoever startled him, but he stops when he gets a good look at the man’s face, the irritated expression slips off his own. Oh. He’s pretty. He’s got the biggest blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and pink lips surrounded by what looks like days old stubble. He’s big, a little bit more muscular than Bucky, but still. Very pretty. He’s also smiling at Bucky.

Bucky realizes he’s staring and frowns at himself. Whatever. Bucky Barnes is well versed when it comes to pretty men, considering he _is_ one. This one isn’t going to make him nervous. He refuses to let himself be made nervous (he is nervous anyways, thanks, brain). “I am.”

Pretty ( _stop calling him that, Barnes)_ holds out a hand for Bucky to shake. He does. “I’m Steve Rogers. Welcome to Shield Resorts. I’m guessing this isn’t exactly the welcome wagon you were expecting, but I’ll try to make it nice for you anyways.”

_That won’t be hard._ Bucky’s lips twitch at the beam Steve sends him, but he forces himself to school his features. He doesn’t want to be one of those assholes that hits on a with a worker when they’re on the job. “So how long is this gonna take?” He tries to keep his voice uncaring.

Steve doesn’t have a bag or anything with him, so Bucky really doesn’t know how much the guy is going to be able to do on the repair front. Steve doesn’t answer yet, just surveys the damaged sail, hand cupped over his eyes to shield his face from the afternoon sun. “Well,” he says eventually. I can’t fix the sail with it still attached to the mast, so for today I’m just gonna take it down.”

Bucky isn’t sure what to say to that. Is he supposed to stick around for it? Should he offer to help? He clears his throat. “That won’t be too hard?” Steve gives him an almost insulted look. Oops. “I don’t really know much about boats. Neither do my friends, hence the rip.”

Steve’s face falls back into an easy grin. “Ah, first timers. Explains a lot.”

“There also might have been alcohol involved. Not on my part,” Bucky adds. “I didn’t even want to come on this trip, actually.” As soon as he says it, he regrets opening his mouth. Steve is looking at him strangely. “What?” he says defensively. “I don’t really like sand.”

Steve just laughs and shakes his head for moment before stopping and giving Bucky a _look_. Not a sex look, unfortunately. More of a Bambi eyes look. Bucky is immediately suspicious (and endeared). Steve wants something. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Steve is rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and looking at Bucky through his long-as-fuck eyelashes. “So…” he begins.

Bucky, just because he’s an asshole- _and_ because he feels like he’s losing his upper hand, with how Steve already has him essentially eating out of the palm of his hand when they’ve only known each other _five minutes_ \- quirks an eyebrow and cocks out a hip. “What?”

“Would you mind giving me a hand with the sail? Just to take it down. I can do it myself, probably, since it’s not too windy, but it’d be easier if I had another person.” Steve is practically bright red with how much he’s blushing, and Bucky finds it ridiculously adorable.

He might be an _asshole_ , but he’s not a _monster_ so he only teases the man a little bit more, putting on a big show of rolling his eyes and huffing before he says “ _fine_ ”. He gives Steve a little quirk of his lips just so the guy knows he’s not really put out. Bucky is nice like that. “I have no idea what I’m doing, though. So no complaining if I fuck something up, that’s what you get for asking favors from people you’ve just met.”

Steve just laughs and hops into the boat. Bucky tells himself _not_ to look at Steve’s ass but the guy is wearing these red shorts that frame everything so nicely- how is he supposed to resist? He lets himself take a glance, and makes sure didn’t see- by the lack of Steve’s blush, he’s good.

“You getting’ in?” Steve asks, turning. He must have a perpetual cheer about him, or maybe he’s just putting on a customer service show for Bucky. Either way, Bucky thinks he’s cute as hell.

“Yeah. What do you need me to do?”

Taking down the ripped sail isn’t hard work at all. Thankfully, Tony only tore into the jib sail, and the tear doesn’t even look to be too bad. That’s great for Bucky’s wallet, but he can’t help but feel a little sad that it gives him less time with Steve and his flexing muscles and he draws down the sail and removes it from the tack. “Hey, can you grab that bag over there? The green one?”

Bucky looks to where Steve is pointing and retrieves a large, oblong bag. Steve is gathering the sail in his hands and bunching it into a ball. Bucky, thinking ahead, unzips the bag and holds it open for Steve to dump the damaged sail into. “How hard is it gonna be to fix?”

Steve zips up the sail bag and dusts off his hands. “Not hard at all. I just have to take a patch and sewing machine to it. Hour long job, max. Happens all the time, y’know?”

Bucky nods. “I’m glad my idiot friends didn’t inconvenience you too much. Where do you want me to set this?” he asks, shouldering the bag. It’s kind of heavy.

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks panicked for a second. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. I can take it, I know it’s heavy.”

Bucky is quick to insist. “No, no- It’s fine. Would you like me to carry it back to wherever you’re going to repair it? We still have to discuss the payment.” If he’s making excuses just to stay around Steve longer, no one has to know. He’s the only one around to see Steve blush at the offer.

“Um- yeah, sure, my workshop is at the other end of the dock. I keep the money and repair stuff in there.” Steve sounds flustered.

Bucky has to keep himself from grinning. Success. “Lead the way, Mr. Rogers,” he drawls.

Climbing out of the boat, Steve makes a disgruntled noise. “Absolutely do not call me that, it makes me feel like an old man. It’s Steve.”

Bucky chuckles and follows him to walk on the dock. “What, you don’t wanna sound like you wear sweater vests every day?” he says drily. Since Steve is walking next to him, he can see the way Bucky pointedly looks at the tight polyester polo Steve is decked out in. God, those pecs.

Steve has been blushing so much, he looks like he has a sunburn. Bucky is kind of obsessed with it. “Don’t think that’d be comfortable in this heat.”

“Well, if I’m gonna call you Steve, and we’re already at the ‘asking favors’ stage in our relationship, you might as well call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

Steve turns his head and gives him a sly look. “We’re friends already? Puttin’ on the moves pretty fast, aren’t you, Buck?” he teases. They both slow as they approach a structure built directly off the dock that Bucky assumes is Steve’s office, if the sign reading “BOAT REPAIR” is anything to go by.

Bucky fixes Steve with an unimpressed expression. Steve snorts and turns to open his office door.

The office is nothing particularly big or spectacular, just a mostly empty room with walls lined with shelves and a large table with a long bench to sit on. Steve doesn’t bother to flip on the light, seeing as the sun coming in from the windows is enough. Bucky steps in, shuts the door behind him, and suddenly the room seems a million time smaller. “Love what you’ve done with the place,” he comments offhand. “Where do you want this?”

Steve gestures to the table. “Uh, there’s fine. I gotta find the money box, it might be a sec if you wanna sit down…” He goes to one of the shelves and starts digging around, presumably for the box.

Bucky dumps the bag on the table and has to stifle a laugh when Steve jumps at the noise. He meets Steve’s miffed look with a smirk and settles himself to sit on the bench. Steve keeps shuffling for a few more moments until finally Bucky hears a quiet “aha!” and Steve turns back to face him, small metal box in hand.

Cute.

“So, what we usually do with repairs is have the guest write details about the damage in the log- how, where, who, when, stuff like that. I’ll give you a copy of your entry. And then we give you a price, and you pay it. Sound good?”

Bucky nods and Steve gives him yet another smile, coming over to the table and sliding on the bench next to him. Sadly, not close enough to touch, but Steve _is_ at work and Bucky doesn’t know how far he’s willing to go with this yet.

Doesn’t mean he can’t tease him still. If he can find another excuse to see him. Hopefully he wears those little shorts and one of those polos every day. That’s the only way Bucky’s going to enjoy this forced vacation.

He’s filling out the information when Steve pipes up again. “So, why’re you on vacation at the beach if you hate sand?”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his writing, but he’s secretly glad Steve wants to get to know him a little. Means he’s at least a bit interested in him. “My coworkers- well, friends really, wanted to come and refused to go without me. They think I work too much.”

“Do you?” Steve’s tone is curious. Bucky blinks and looks up at him.

“What, am I being cross examined?” he’s joking, but Steve immediately ducks his head and looks put out, so it must not have come across that way. “No, c’mon, I’m just kidding. I’m a lawyer,” he says by way of explanation. “Working too much kind of comes with the territory.”

Steve looks hesitant to ask another question, but does anyways. “But you like it? Your work, I mean.”

Bucky gives him a tiny smile and nods. “Yeah, a lot. Helping people out of a shitty situation feels good. Gives me a sense of purpose, and all that jazz.” He’s about to hand Steve the log back, but before he does, quietly asks a question of his own. “What about you? You like your job?”

Steve’s face lights up as soon as Bucky asks. He’s clearly about to wax poetic about it, and Bucky is going to hang on to every word. “I love it. I mean, I know it’s not much, especially compared to being a lawyer. But it’s perfect for me. I love the outdoors, the water, seeing people have fun. And everyone is always in such a good mood here. I’m really lucky.” He leans in closer to Bucky and Bucky has to actively keep his breath from hitching. “The pay isn’t too bad either,” he whispers like it’s a secret between the two of them.

Bucky has the sudden urge to giggle. However, James Buchanan Barnes does not _giggle_ , so he settles in in letting out a _hmmm._ He leans in like Steve had done moments before and keeps his voice pitched low. “ _Everyone’s_ in a good mood? Where does that leave me?”

Steve’s face flushes prettily, and it’s even nicer to look at up close with the sunlight coming in through his window. He has his eyes averted, lashes flicking up as he shyly looks at Bucky. “Well, are you _always_ this grumpy?”

Bucky leans back, glaring at Steve. It’s all for show, and from the shit-eating grin Steve is wearing, he knows it. “I am not _grumpy_ ,” he says sourly. “I’m just tired!”

Steve raises his eyebrows and looks amused. “Tired? You’re on vacation!”

“Well, I’ve spent most of it so far sorting out the mess my idiot friends have made for the poor boat repairman to clean up! I got here like twenty minutes before I met you,” Bucky says defensively.

He’s expecting more banter, but Steve’s smile slips and is replaced by a guilty look. “Bucky! You didn’t tell me you had just gotten here! I’ve been keeping you for way too long, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, here, give me the log and you can go to your room and sleep, oh, god-“

Bucky doesn’t want Steve to feel _bad_. Especially about something concerning him, so he reaches out a placating hand to squeeze Steve’s arm (shit, that’s a lot of muscle) and cuts him off. “Hey, Steve. It’s okay, really, I was just teasin’. I’m not that tired. In fact, I’m probably gonna head to the bar after this and get dinner.” He hesitates before he asks, but he adds casually, as if it’s no big deal, “you wanna come? My friends are probably drunk as hell right now, anyways. Wouldn’t mind the company.”

Steve is beginning to look more placated, glancing down at Bucky’s hand still on his bicep and curling his lips up a little. “I guess I could take a dinner break,” Steve says shyly.

Bucky (against his own will) lets go of Steve’s arm and stands up from the bench. Steve follows him and Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Uh, you know you still haven’t asked me for the repair money, right, champ?”

“Oh, shit,” Steve curses. “God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know where my head is at today. I’ve been a bit- distracted.” Bucky gives him a tight lip smile but inwardly is thinking _I hope it’s by me._ “Since part of the agreement you sign when you partake in guest activities here includes, um, damage to resort property, you just have to pay a bit more than the actual repair would cost normally. Sorry. It’ll be seventy-five dollars.” He looks strongly apologetic about this, as if he’s robbing the poor instead of doing his job and overcharging Bucky by like fifteen dollars.

Bucky wants to coo at him, but he refrains and goes with rolling his eyes instead. “Steve, I promise you I’m not put out because I have to pay for my friends’ destructive habits. I’m used to it, they’re kind of disasters. But if it makes you feel better, you can leave the tip at dinner.” He already can tell Steve is the type to try and cover the whole check, but there’s no way in hell Bucky is going to allow that. “Now, c’mon. Let’s go. Is what I’m wearing good enough for the resort restaurant, you think?”

He can’t pretend that this isn’t just a ploy to get Steve to fully check him out (if he hasn’t already) but if anyone ever asks, he’ll never admit it.

Steve’s eyes flit from his pompadour to his boots, taking in his black skinny jeans and blue button up French-tucked into them. Bucky knows he looks damn good, and by the way Steve hesitates before speaking, he knows it, too. “Hell of a lot fancier than what I’m wearing. Aren’t you hot, though, with those pants?”

Bucky plays up a sarcastic tone and throws a look to Steve over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “Sure hope so!” He turns back around afterwards, so he can’t see Steve’s expression, but he just _knows_ that he’s red.

~

The restaurant is fairly crowded by the time they get there. It’s about five, so Bucky expected as much. They get seated fairly quickly, though, so even though the setting is a bit louder than ideal, he can’t complain. Steve seems to know most of the waitstaff here, and the menu, for that matter. Bucky asks Steve what he would recommend, and the blonde is chattering off suggestions in a heartbeat.

The meal is pleasant, Steve talks enough for the both of them and doesn’t seem too bothered that Bucky responds with mostly quiet sentences and attentive hums. He tells Bucky about some of the crazier guests he’s had to deal with here, about how he doesn’t have much to do some days because accidents with the equipment are normal but not usually too frequent, so his schedule is pretty flexible.

_Noted,_ Bucky thinks. He could keep Steve busy. In a multitude of ways.

The two of them have just finished eating when Bucky hears a commotion from across the room. He looks up to see what it is and swears under his breath.

The commotion is Nat and Tony. They’re both shitfaced. Sam is nowhere to be seen but Bucky has to assume that, being more reasonable, he had gotten tipsy earlier and retired to his room. Tony has never been that reserved, and Nat has always been able to hold her alcohol. Bucky knows he should go get them but…

He looks to Steve across the table regretfully. “You know how I told you that my friends are disasters?” Steve nods, confused. Bucky winces. “Uh- take a look across to the bar? Take a guess at what I’m about to tell you next.”

Steve glances at Tony and Natasha and sighs, dropping his eyes to the table but coming back up with an understanding smile. “You need to go get them, don’t you?” He doesn’t sound angry, but he does sound a little dejected, like Bucky is running out on him on purpose.

Bucky is going to kill his friends for making him hurt this poor man’s feelings.

“I’m sorry, pal. I don’t wanna ditch you, but you can take care of yourself and I’m not so sure that the two of them right there could even find their rooms right now.” He tries to make his voice sincere as possible, or at least catch Steve’s eye, but those baby blues are caught on the tablecloth like it has a gun to his head. “Hey, I’m sure my friends will fuck something or the other up soon, okay? You’ll be the first one I run to about it, swear.”

Steve snorts a little at that and finally looks up at him, nodding. “Anything goes wrong, I’m your guy,” he says with a bashful grin. “See you around?” His voice is hopeful.

Bucky flashes his most charming smile at him as he scoots out of their booth to go rescue his dumbass partners. “I promise.” He means it.

Now, to go wring Natasha and Tony’s necks.

~

They don’t go to their rooms easy. They aren’t exactly kicking and screaming, but they are wobbly and petulant which is almost as bad, considering they’re in their thirties, not their threes. Tony isn’t the worse, which is surprising, It’s Natasha that won’t shut up and go along with him.

He finally wrangles Tony to his door and forces his key card out of his pocked, telling Nat to stay put in the hallway so he can herd Tony inside and towards the direction of his bed. The older man flops face first on the mattress and is out before Bucky even closes the door.

Thankfully, Natasha’s room is just down the hallway from Tony’s, across from Bucky’s own.

He guides her gently towards it, but she starts babbling as soon as he puts his hand between her shoulder blades. “Who was the guy?” she asks blurrily. Bucky has to pause for a second.

Natasha has always had the uncanny ability of remembering things no matter how under the influence she was. Whatever his answer is, she’s going to know the next morning, so he tries to choose his words carefully.

“I met him earlier. He’s the boat mechanic. I think we’re friends, now.”

Natasha squints at him and shakes her head. “He was too cute for you to be _just_ his friend.”

“What, like you were in any shape to get a good look at him?”

They make it to her door and she leans against the wall, crossing her arms. “You guys fucked.”

Bucky, for all that he’s trying to be graceful, is taken aback. “I can assure you we did not. Christ, you think I move that fast? We’ve been here for less than a day.” He’s almost offended. Can he not just…make friends?

She snorts, head lolling back and banging on the wall. She doesn’t flinch, but Bucky does. That’s gonna hurt tomorrow morning. “You’re an expert at it, at this point. I’d expect nothing less, James.”

He’s done talking about this for tonight. He shakes his head and puts his hand out for her keycard. “I didn’t do anything. Really. The guy was just a friend.”

Natasha digs around in her purse for her card, still mumbling as she does so. “You’re kind of a disaster slut, Barnes. You’ve had more one-night stands than the three of us combined. You’re as prickly as a cactus unless you’re trying to sweet talk someone into your bed. C’mon admit it, it was a post coital victory dinner!” She finds the card and brandishes it triumphantly.

Bucky snatches it from her and moves to open the door before she can see any of the hurt that’s broken out on his face. He pushes her inside and towards the bed like he did with Tony, setting her card down on the nightstand. “Night.”

As he leaves, Natasha calls out sarcastically “Sorry we ruined your _date_!”

He has to keep himself from slamming the door.

When he gets back to his own room and has his back to the door, he finally lets the hurt of Natasha’s words sink in. Maybe she didn’t mean for them to hurt, but they still _did_. Was it really so ridiculous to think that he had made a friend? Was it really more ridiculous to think that he had been on a _date_?

He can’t deny that he’s interested in Steve, he knows that. He doesn’t _want_ to deny being interested in Steve. He’s known the guy for a total of a couple hours, and is already infatuated with him. The dinner still hadn’t been a date, though, because…he wants to get to know him better first. Kind of wants to play up the flirting and the wooing before he takes him out properly.

I mean, that was the whole point of romance, wasn’t it?

Why is it so ridiculous to his friends that he can enjoy that?

He isn’t a fool. He knows it’s a running joke among them, how often and easily he engages in casual sex, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take someone on a date if he wants them like that. He likes _Steve_ like that.

It was just- the way she had so easily called him a _slut_ , like sleeping around is something he should know bars him from being a romantic person. The way she had spit out the word _date_ like it was laughable to imagine him engaging in one. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe she hadn’t meant it, but he’s pretty sure that she had and-

He doesn’t find it funny.

He’s actually always considered himself somewhat of a romantic, personally, even if he doesn’t broadcast it to the world. I mean, romance for some people is personal. Intimate. It feels that way for him.

He guesses he just won’t tell them about Steve, or anything to do with him if the topic would just become another thing for them to rib him about. He doesn’t want to keep Steve a secret, and he won’t, but he’s not going to tell them until he can properly romance the guy. If it doesn’t work out, he doesn’t want to deal with the humiliation of them knowing about it. They’d just tease him about how he isn’t cut out for romance. Doesn’t seem like the romantic _type_.

He doesn’t want to deal with that. Hopefully he won’t have to, but just in case…

Bucky falls asleep thinking about blue eyes and polo shirts that night.

~

He wakes up the next morning surprisingly refreshed. He did crash early, thanks to how his friends had gotten completely smashed at ten o’clock for some god damn reason. But he feels good, the sheets and the mattress feel good, and he’s lying there basking in it when there’s a knock at the door.

He doesn’t want to answer, but he knows he’s going to have to. Like he said before: his friends are persistent. Still, he wants to know who he’s dealing with before he lets them in, so he calls out “Who is it?” and waits for a reply.

He doesn’t have to wait long. “It’s Sam.”

Bucky is relieved. Sam, he can handle. He crawls out of bed and goes to open the door, knowing Sam won’t care that he’s missing his shirt. When Bucky is greeted by the man’s face, he immediately notices the expression on his face. It is not as chipper as he would have hoped for, given they are on _vacation_.

“What’s up?” he asks in lieu of a greeting.

Sam shoves his hands into the pockets of his beach shorts. “I wanted to say sorry for ditching you yesterday, I know we shouldn’t have. Just wanted to see if you’d come join me for breakfast as an apology.” He looks earnest, which Bucky appreciates but also is a little discomforted by.

He sighs. “It wasn’t a big deal, honestly,” he says dismissively. “It turned out fine. I’ll take you up on that breakfast, though.” He eyes the man warily for a second. “Will it just be us two or…”

Sam nods. “I didn’t even want to try waking them up,” he admits. “They were already pretty far gone by the time I went to my room last night, but they wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Did you wrangle them in last night? Man, sorry about that, too. You’re supposed to be here to relax, not to play designated driver.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and waves him off. “Just don’t make a habit of it. Lemme get dressed and we can head down in a few.”

A few minutes later, Bucky has donned his signature black jeans and a red tank top that will show off his arms. Y’know, just in case he runs into…someone. Anyone. Steve. Not typical beach attire, but almost nothing gets him out of those jeans, and while Bucky is hopeful, Steve isn’t at that level yet.

_Yet_.

Sam isn’t much for small talk, so they’re silent almost the entire walk to the restaurant until Sam asks “So, what did you get up to yesterday while we were otherwise occupied?” He doesn’t sound like he heard anything from Nat but Bucky is still cautious.

He keeps his expression blank. “Spent most of the day sorting out the boat mishap. Went and got some dinner. Dragged our friends back to their rooms.”

Sam doesn’t question him about it, which Bucky is grateful for.

They arrive at the restaurant, which is thankfully pretty empty. It _is_ nine in the morning after all. Not many people like to wake up early on vacation. They sit in a semi-secluded booth tucked away in the corner. He can see the marina area of the resort from the window and tries to discreetly crane his neck to try and see if he can see Steve’s office from here, too, but he can’t. He sighs and looks back at his menu. When he looks up, he’s greeted to the sight of Sam staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Immediately, his hackles raise. “What?” Bucky demands. He is not in the mood for whatever speech Sam is about to give him.

Sam raises his eyebrows and his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t say anything,” he says mildly.

Bucky is not appeased. “You want to, though.”

“I was just gonna ask if you were alright. You seemed a little weird this morning when you thought Tony and Nat might be joining us for breakfast.”

Bucky lets out a breath and leans against the table with his arms crossed. He doesn’t really want to go into specifics, but it would be nice if he could tell Sam about what Natasha said, get it off his chest. He knows Sam is a loyal guy. He won’t run to Natasha behind Bucky’s back or anything.

He’s silent for a second, staring down at the menu. When he lifts his gaze, Sam is still looking at him. “Natasha said some things to me when she was drunk last night,” he starts. Sam’s expression hasn’t changed, but he gestures for Bucky to go on when he pauses. “Some of what she said bothered me,” he admits. “It- I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a fool.”

Sam leans back in his seat. “Just say whatever you’re thinking, man. I won’t judge, you know that.”

Bucky does know that. Sam had almost gone into psychology in college, and he would have been excellent at it if he had continued. Still, Bucky didn’t really like talking about his emotions, but if he was going to talk to any of his friends about them…he would want it to be Sam.

He sighs. “She basically called me a slut.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up and he actually looks pretty outraged. “She _what_ now?” he demands.

Strangely, even though Bucky is actually kind of mad at Natasha, he still feels the need to defend her. They’ve been friends for a long time, and in most other aspects of his life she supports him. “She was drunk, you know, and I don’t know if she _meant_ it, but it still bothered me. I don’t know, I probably just made it into a big deal when I shouldn’t have” he finishes, trying to dismiss it, but Sam isn’t having that.

“Nah. That’s not cool, man, I’d be pissed. It’s none of her business who you sleep with’”

For all that he appreciates Sam’s tirade of social justice, he cuts it off. “That’s the thing, I didn’t even sleep with anyone! She just assumes that I did and accused me of lying when I said I didn’t!”

“That’s shitty.”

“Yeah,” Bucky has to admit. “It kind of was.”

Thankfully, the waitress finally wanders over almost as soon as the conversation hits a low. Bucky has to force a tight smile on his face while he orders. After the waitress leaves, Sam dives right back into it, not missing a beat.

“While I normally wouldn’t encourage my friend to be mad at my other friend, I gotta tell you, Barnes. You have every right to be mad at that woman. She’s grown, she should know better. I know we’ve teased you about being a modern day Casonova, but I hope you know I’ve never meant anything by it.”

“I know,” Bucky says gruffly. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. It just rubbed me the wrong way when she said it, ‘s all.”

“I get it.” Thankfully Sam doesn’t push it any more. Their food arrives (Churro pancakes for Bucky, Mushroom omelet for Sam- shut up, they’re on _vacation_ , they can ruin their diets) and they eat in companionable silence.

It’s gorgeous outside, sun reflecting onto crystal blue water, blue sky dotted with wisps of clouds. Bucky wonders if there’s anything set on the agenda for today, and he figures that Sam will know more than him since he was with their friends last night, so he asks. “Does Tony want to try sailing again, today? Or are we all just gonna do our own thing.” _Keep it casual, Barnes._

Sam shrugs. “I was gonna go check out the spa.” He glares when Bucky gives him an eyebrow raise. “I deserve nice things,” he says imperiously. “And nice things include full body massages and facials.”

Bucky snorts. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

Sam gives him a look that says ‘that’s what I thought’. “What about you, Barnes, what’re your plans for the day? I bet I know, you wanna go do some beachside yoga,” he teases. Bucky shoots him his own glare. Sam _knows_ that Bucky hates sand.

“I was just gonna explore a bit,” he says. “This is a pretty big place. Might not see you guys for the rest of the day, so don’t worry if I’m not at dinner.” He doesn’t particularly want to talk to Natasha today. Plus, he wants to see Steve at some point, and that’ll be easier to manage if he isn’t being hounded by a couple of semi-sober leeches.

“As long as you don’t avoid us for the rest of the trip. I’ll tell Tony not to send out the hunting dogs,” Sam says, clapping him on the shoulder. Sometimes Bucky appreciates Sam. He knows when to not ask questions. They both stand and head for the hostess booth to pay their check.

Something about the sight of it makes Bucky feel like he’s forgotten something, and it isn’t until Sam asks him if he wants to split the check that he remembers what it is.

~

After breakfast, he heads for Steve’s office. Normally, he would wait to go see the guy, seeing as it’s barely eleven in the morning and he doesn’t want to seem desperate. But he has an apology to deliver, and he doesn’t want to wait another second.

When he actually gets to Steve’s door, he doesn’t know what he should do. Should he knock? Just go in? He settles on knocking. Immediately after he taps on the door, a voice yells “Coming!” from inside, and Bucky has to keep a huge smile from breaking onto his face because it’s _Steve_.

The man in question is currently blinking at him, confused. He’s wearing another polo and even _shorter_ green shorts than he was wearing yesterday. Bucky wants to cuddle, and possibly eat him right up. “Hi?”

Bucky blinks back at him. “Hey,” he says roughly. He clears his throat. “Um, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I, uh, I didn’t actually realize I had fucked up until this morning.”

Steve still looks confused. “What’d you fuck up?”

“I forgot to pay the check before I left dinner last night. I basically told you I was planning on it and then stuck you with it anyways. I’m so sorry, I just completely forgot about it when I went to go get my friends,” Bucky explains sheepishly. “I felt like an ass. I didn’t want you to think I was the kinda guy to do that on purpose.”

Steve laughs and it’s the best thing Bucky has heard yet that day. The blonde man leans against his doorframe and crosses his arms. “Honestly, Bucky, I didn’t mind. I was gonna pay the check even if you _were_ there.”

Bucky is a little busy ogling Steve’s flexing muscles from behind his sunglasses, so it takes him a second to actually realize what Steve just said. He raises a challenging eyebrow. “What does that mean?” he demands. “I offered.”

Steve shrugs and smiles bashfully. “Yeah, and it was sweet. But only one of us gets an employee discount, and it isn’t you. Plus, you’d had a rough day.”

Bucky has to stop a second at that to gather himself. Steve is just so _sweet_. Unbelievable. He can’t even let Bucky subtly woo him without showing off how big his heart is. “You’re a charmer, huh, Rogers?” he says, squinting at him. “C’mon, you gotta let me pay you back. Ease my conscience. We’ll go to dinner sometime again?” It’s the perfect excuse to get him to see Bucky again, and this one doesn’t even involve any property damage.

Steve is pink, but he’s grinning, too. Bucky counts it as a double-win. “That’d be nice, Bucky. One condition, though,” he adds on. “You can pay the check but you let me use my discount for it. To ease _my_ conscience.”

Bucky rolls his eyes good naturedly and sighs like he’s doing Steve a favor by saying yes. “Sure thing, Steve. Is tonight good?” Steve nods and Bucky inwardly celebrates. “What’ve you got goin’ on the rest of the day? Fixing the sail that my friends fucked up?” he asks, just to keep the conversation going longer.

He isn’t exactly _intending_ on getting (tricking) Steve to invite him inside to ‘show him how to fix a sail’, but he can’t say that he isn’t more than happy to spend more time alone with him. It’s nice to see him in his element, doing work for a job he clearly adores. And…maybe Bucky has a competency kink, but that’s his business.

Bucky’s heart almost melts when he sees Steve pull out the sewing machine. Fuck, could he get any more adorable? What’s he gonna do next, invite Bucky over to wherever he lives and cook him dinner in one of those frilly aprons? Now that Bucky is picturing that…not a bad idea, actually.

“You can sit down, you know,” says Steve cheerfully. Bucky realizes he’s still hovering behind Steve from where he’d been engrossed while watching the blonde man’s deft fingers thread the sewing machine.

For once, it’s Bucky that blushes instead of Steve. He’s glad the other man can’t see him. “Yeah,” he says gruffly, sliding onto the bench. “I didn’t know that sewing was part of the boat mechanic criteria.”

Steve laughs and pauses from where he’s sliding the damaged part of the sail under the machine’s needle to throw a grin at Bucky. “I’m not just a mechanic, Buck. I’m a repairman. Means I gotta fix _all_ the parts of the boats, sails included.”

Bucky’s heart does a weird little flip at the way Steve says _Buck_. He tries not to let it show, but he’s pretty sure the corner of his mouth twitches anyways. “You’re just a jack of all trades, huh, Stevie?” he says lowly, testing out a nickname of his own. Fair is fair, after all. Unlike Bucky and his master poker face, Steve can’t contain his expression at the endearment. He lights up even more, eyes bright.

“Not exactly a bigshot lawyer like you, but I do have my talents,” he jokes. While Bucky is rolling his eyes at him, Steve pulls out a patch from his little sewing kit and fits it over the tear in the sail. “I like sewing, anyways. It’s relaxing.”

“You sound like a grandma,” Bucky teases. “You knit, too? I bet you do.’

Steve huffs but the quirk of his lips tells Bucky that he’s not upset by it. “I crochet, actually,” he retorts.

Bucky starts laughing as Steve finally starts up the sewing machine. The work is quick, needle firing away. The noise it makes is pretty loud, so Bucky doesn’t try to continue the conversation while Steve is concentrating. Instead, he chooses to study Steve’s face while the guy is focused on his work.

He’s so pretty. His eyelashes, his lips, even his slightly crooked nose. Bucky just wants to plant one on his forehead. His brow has got this little furrow in it from where he’s concentrating on his stitches, and Bucky has the sudden urge to smooth it out with his fingers.

He’s staring so hard that he almost has a heart attack when the machine stops and Steve looks back up at him. He has to jerk his eyes away and pretend like he was looking at the sail instead.

“See? Pretty easy fix,’ Steve chirps, pulling the sail away from the needle and holding it out for Bucky to examine. “Good as new, right?”

“You’re a grade-A seamstress,” Bucky says with a smirk. Steve pinks and gives him a faux glare.

“Is that a new gay stereotype?” he says sarcastically, and for all that Bucky has been trying to play it cool around Steve up to this point, he can’t help but let out a loud laugh. Up until this point, Bucky hadn’t realized that Steve had never actually said anything in regards to his sexuality. Bucky had just been making assumptions based off of the responses Steve had given to his teasing. Bucky hasn’t exactly hinted or said anything about his _sexuality_ either.

He decides to change that, just to start testing deeper waters. “I wouldn’t want to push a stereotype on you that doesn’t apply to me, too,” he says slowly, watching Steve’s expression.

Steve looks delighted, smiling wide. “That’s the spirit of solidarity, huh?”

Bucky gives him a tiny smile. “That’s the spirit,” he agrees.

~

Bucky should have known that telling Sam he might not be at dinner wouldn’t be enough to deter Natasha from trying to hunt him down. Sam might have said he could keep Tony from sending the hunting party out for him, but he had never promised anything about Natasha. She was relentless.

At last count, he has seven texts from her.

_James._

_Where are you?_

_Are you avoiding us?_

_I haven’t heard from you since yesterday._

_If you don’t respond, I WILL hunt you down._

_James Barnes._

_Is this about last night?_

He sighs loudly. Steve looks up from where he’s packing up his sewing stuff. “What’s the matter?” he asks, frowning.

Bucky locks his phone, still not responding to her texts. He avoids Steve’s concerned gaze and looks out the window instead, keeping his expression neutral. He doesn’t want to dump anything on Steve, especially when it concerns the fact that Bucky is kind of infatuated with him. “Just my friend trying to be pushy,” he says finally. It’s not a lie. Natasha is pushy. It’s both an endearing and infuriating quality of hers. “Nothing to worry about, though,” he adds quickly, noticing the furrow coming back between Steve’s brows.

Steve’s expression doesn’t change, but he seems to pick up on the fact that Bucky doesn’t want to talk about it, which Bucky appreciates. He really is an angel.

“You wanna help me put the sail back on the boat now that it’s fixed?” Steve asks instead.

Of course he does. He’d do anything as long as it meant he gets to spend extra time with Steve.

He doesn’t say this out loud, of course. He gives Steve a narrowed eyed look and an over the top sigh. “We’ve known each other two days and this is the second time you’ve recruited me for upaid labor,” he says drily. “You move fast, huh, Stevie?”

Steve colors darker than Bucky has seen yet, blush spreading down his neck. Bucky wants to see how far down it goes. With his tongue.

“I did buy you dinner first, at least,” Steve says sweetly. Somehow, he manages to sound forward and shy at the same time. Bucky loves it.

“Well in that case,” he drawls, lifting an eyebrow. “Lead the way, pal.”

The weather, of course, is beautiful. Bucky expects no less from Florida during the summertime, but he’s appreciating it extra today. Why? Simple: Steve with his sleeves pushed up.

They’re putting the sail back up, which is a bit more difficult than getting it down, but it’s nothing that Bucky can’t handle. Especially when he’s rewarded with the sight of Steve’s freckles shoulders revealed by the pushed-up sleeves of his polo.

It isn’t any hotter than it was yesterday, so Bucky has no idea if this is Steve trying to show off his muscles for Bucky or a sign that he’s just more comfortable than he was previously. Either way, that’s a point in Bucky’s favor, right?

Well, fair is fair in his mind. If Steve’s going to show off the goods a bit, then that’s blanket permission for Bucky to do the same. He _is_ a guest after all. He already is wearing a tank top, so he can’t take the same route as Steve, but what he _can_ do is lift the bottom of his tank to pretend to wipe the almost nonexistent sweat off his forehead in an attempt to subtly show off his abs. He’d worked hard for them, damnit! He’s allowed to show them off.

By the way Steve turns beet red and fumbles the rope he’s currently supposed to be tightening, every bit of work in Bucky’s gym was worth it. _So_ worth it. He’s about to grin at Steve and give him a teasing remark about it, finally move the flirting up a level when he hears someone else speak from behind him.

“Well, sailors, looks like you’re hard at work today.”

It’s Natasha. Of _course_ it’s Natasha. Why did Bucky think it _wouldn’t_ be Natasha?

She looks killer, of course, in a deep green one-piece suit with a slit down the middle that goes down to a point that Bucky is pretty sure leaves the swimming functionality of the suit irrelevant. She’s also looking at Bucky with a shark’s expression, all glittering eyes and pointed smiles. It’s her game face, he knows. He’s seen it before a thousand times in the court room.

“I thought we told you no working on vacation, James,” she says primly. Bucky grits his teeth and finishes typing off the knot to secure his side of the sail. He throws a glance at Steve and is unhappy to see that he looks uncomfortable. He hadn’t looked that way a few seconds ago, and Bucky knows it’s because Natasha is here. For all that Bucky loves her, she has a certain…air about her, mostly around strangers. She comes off oftentimes as cold. Scrutinizing. A lot of other things that he doesn’t want Steve subjected to, especially this early on into their tentative relationship. He won’t have her scaring him off, not that she needs to know that that’s what she’d be doing.

He abandons his post and comes to stand at the edge of the boat, closer to Natasha but blocking her view of Steve as well. He knows that she knows Steve was the guy at dinner from last night, from the smug look in her eyes. He also knows that she’s assuming they’re going to hook up again.

“Well, there wouldn’t be any work to be done if my companions were a bit more responsible with their drinking,” he says, tone aiming for sarcastic but bordering on haughty. He doesn’t care. He’s still kind of upset with her, anyways. Serves them right. Sam had apologized, but he knows he won’t be getting anything like that from Nat or Tony. It isn’t in their nature.

Natasha has just as good a poker face as he does, so her expression doesn’t change at the jab. She crosses her arms instead. “Maybe you should join us tonight, make sure our responsibility is up to par with your expectations,” she says coolly.

“That’s a nice offer, unfortunately I already have plans.” Bucky hears a sigh from behind him and has to fight the urge to turn and check on Steve. This is Natasha. One sign of weakness, and she’ll keep ragging on it until he snaps.

Natasha hums and gives him a saccharine smile. “Some other time, then,” she concedes, already stepping away. “Oh, James?” she calls over her shoulder. Bucky tips his head warily. “Maybe put on some sunscreen, you both looked pretty red when I came over.” With that, she’s heading back over to the bar.

Bucky lets out an aggravated sigh and turns back to Steve. “Sorry about that.”

Steve is wiping the sweat off his hands with a rag and seems to be avoiding eye contact with Bucky. Bucky frowns. He doesn’t know what to make of that. “It’s okay,” Steve says half-heartedly. His ever-present smile seems dimmer than usual. “S’that one of your friends?”

Bucky nods and leans against the edge of the boat. “Natasha. I’ve known her since high school. Kind of a nightmare sometimes, but it makes her a powerhouse at her job,” he says. Even though he’s a little mad at her, there’s no reason for him to trash her skills to Steve. She’s usually a pretty good friend, has been a friend for a long time.

Steve still isn’t looking at him. “She seemed kind of mad that you weren’t spending time with her…” he says hesitantly. His eyes are fixed on the scuffed floor of the deck. “Sorry.”

The statement is added on quickly and quietly, like Steve didn’t want Bucky to hear it but felt like he needed to say it. Bucky’s brow furrows. “Sorry?” he echoes, frowning at the other man. “What for?”

Steve finally darts his eyes up and gives Bucky a halfhearted attempt at a smile. It looks heartbreaking on his normally earnest face. “I know you probably have better things to do than hang around with resort workers,” he tries to joke. It falls flat and Bucky’s frown deepens. Steve looks uncomfortable but soldiers on. “I didn’t mean to take up your time, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured into-“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, hands on his hips. Steve’s eyes flick to his now flexing biceps, but for once, Bucky can’t bring himself to feel smug about it. Steve is upset. He thinks that he’s forced Bucky into hanging around him. “I don’t feel obligated to be around you. And I’d much rather be here than getting boozed up with the same people I see every day of the week. I could do that at home if I wanted. Alright?”

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. Bucky wants to pull him into a hug and whisper reassurances into his ear, but he’s pretty sure it’s too early in their relationship for that. Plus he’s _also_ pretty sure that Natasha is spying on them from the bar, and he doesn’t want her to see something that she might use against him later. He settles on pulling off his sunglasses so Steve can see how serious his expression is.

“C’mon,” he says placatingly.

Steve huffs but begins to look less like a kicked puppy. “Thanks for the help with the sail, Buck,” he says quietly with a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Stevie.” They’re both silent for a moment, studying each other until Steve finally cracks out a more believable grin and makes a move to get off the boat.

“Have you bothered doing anything at the resort yet besides hang around me and eat?” he asks.

Bucky follows him, hopping back onto the dock and shaking his head. “After the whole sailboat disaster, all my friends have done is get drunk. I think Sam is at the spa, today, though,” he adds. “Getting a massage or some shit.”

Steve nods appreciatively. “It’s nice as fuck. I love going there whenever work has been particularly hard,” he says wistfully. “Gets all the kinks out of my back. Feels like heaven.”

Bucky has to carefully control his reaction at the word “kink” coming out of Steve’s (frankly perfect) mouth. “Oh?” Is all he manages to say. Quite gracefully, at least.

Steve looks at him oddly, though, so maybe it wasn’t as graceful as he thought. “Maybe you should go sometime,” he suggests tentatively. “You paid for all this stuff, you should at least enjoy some of it.”

“You tryin’ to get rid of me, Steve?” Bucky is joking, but his heart does a funny little twist at the thought of Steve getting tired of him. Maybe he’s coming on too strong. Or maybe Steve just doesn’t like him at all.

Steve looks at him with a horrified expression, though, so hopefully that’s not it. “No, Buck, I swear! Just don’t want you to feel stuck hanging around me. I love my job but I know it’s not the most exciting thing in the world to most people.” He sounds self-conscious about it. Bucky frowns, and is about to pretest, but Steve hurries on. “I just don’t want you to waste away your whole vacation on some boring boat mechanic.”

Well Bucky can’t let Steve think _that_. Trying not to sound too earnest (but also trying to sound reassuring? This aloof wooing is getting harder) Bucky twists his face into a wry smile and claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, filing away the way it makes the blonde’s lashes flutter slightly. “Pal, your job is everything half the working force would kill for. If you enjoy it, who cares what everyone else thinks? And I came on this vacation by force, remember? Now that I’m here, ain’t no one who’s gonna make me do anything I don’t wanna, got it? So don’t worry about that.”

Bucky’s accent has always come out when he’s feeling particularly passionate about a topic, and he knows his last few statements definitely came out dripping with a Brooklyn drawl. People have teased him about it before (especially now that he lives down South, Christ) but he’s not expecting the way that Steve gets doe-eyed at the sound of it. Huh. That’s interesting. And…potentially useful.

Steve swallows and gives him a weak smile. “Got it, Buck” His voice is higher than normal, which Bucky raises an eyebrow at.

“You better. Don’t think I won’t carry your ass and dump you in the water if I catch you talkin’ down on yourself again, yeah?” Bucky maybe plays up his accent a little more than usual when he speaks just to gauge Steve’s reaction to it fully this time.

Steve turns pink, which is nothing new, but the way his eyes brighten and his smile turns coy at the display is. Bucky’s pretty sure that if the man had long hair, he’d be twirling it around his finger right now. “That would require you to step foot on the sand and we both know that’s the last thing you wanna do,” he teases.

Bucky takes the bait and scrunches up his face at him. “Well don’t make me have to do it then,” he retorts, voice low. He’s delighted by the sight of Steve’s pink lips parting just the slightest bit.

“I’ll consider myself warned.” Steve’s voice is definitely a bit wrecked. Bucky takes that as another win. Progress, you might say.

He decides to push it a bit more just to see how far they can get. “Don’t think I won’t go through with the punishment, Rogers. I’m a man of my word, no matter how much I hate sand,” he says with a wicked grin. He plays it up a little, licking his lips and turning his mouth crooked. What? He can play a little dangerous if he wants. Natasha can’t see their expressions from this angle, and he’s been holding back for almost two whole days on the heavier flirting. Bucky’s always prided himself on being a charmer, both in and out of bed.

Steve laughs nervously at that and honest-to-god gives his shoe a little scuff on the ground like he’s some sort of gay All-American Boy-Next-Door. His cheeks are redder than ever, and Bucky is about to lose himself in noticing the freckles that have darkened in the sun over the course of the morning, but his reverie is interrupted by Steve’s response. “I’m kind of an expert in punishment, Barnes. You don’t scare me one bit.”

Bucky, for all that he was on board with upping the flirting game moments prior, is a little bit blown away. Compared to the sunshine-and-rainbows of Steve’s norm, that comment was downright _filthy_. Steve seems to realize what Bucky had taken his words to mean a moment later and sputters, eyes wide.

“Oh! Um, I- God, I just meant that I got in a lot of fights when I was younger. So- I can pretty much take whatever you dish out.”

Bucky just stares at him for a moment and bursts out laughing. He doesn’t hold back like he usually does. “Christ, Rogers, for a second I thought I had you pegged all wrong,” he snorts, eyes crinkling from how hard he’s smiling.

Steve looks like he wants to die from embarrassment, but still manages to quip out “Pegging isn’t really my thing,” and Bucky just has to start laughing all over again.

Seems like they’re making progress, indeed.


	2. he's the earth and heaven to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised porn but <3 all this chapter has is a few racy sentences and a scene where Bucky almost jerks off. Almost.

Eventually during the day, Steve is called away to fix something that requires him to leave the office and go down to deal with another customer who he’ll be bringing back up, so Bucky unfortunately has to scram even after all the trouble he went to in order to assure Steve that’s the last thing he’d want to do. He can tell by the expression on Steve’s face that the other man is sorry to see him have to go, but they both know that Steve really does need to get back to his job, so Bucky throws him a reassuring smile and pats him on the back on his way to the door.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’ll take your advice and maybe go to the spa, meet up with Sam if he’s still there. I’ll see you tonight for that dinner? What time would be good?”

“Well, my services close at five. But I’ll probably be pretty sweaty, so I’ll need to grab a shower and change…six? I can meet you at your room if you give me the number. My quarters are on the first floor under the guest rooms, so it’s pretty close.”

Bucky nods and twists the door open, fighting back a victorious smile. “Sounds good to me. I’m room 137.”

Steve gives him a shy grin and a little wave before he steps out. He looks happy, and Bucky is smug to think that it’s because of him. “I’ll write that down. See you tonight, Buck.”

Bucky is sad to close the door on Steve’s smile, but once he does, he turns around and finally lets one break out on his own face. It looks like he has what might be a date tonight with the sweetest guy he’s ever met. _Maybe this vacation won’t be so bad after all_ , he thinks.

He’s just finishing that thought when he looks up from where he’s walking and makes direct eye contact with Natasha, who is still sitting at the outdoor bar area. She’s now looking at him with narrowed eyes. His smile immediately dims, but before he can bolt away, she’s up and heading towards him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“For shame, James. While he’s on the _clock_? It’s mighty bold, I have to say,” she drawls. “Consider me impressed. At least now I know why you’ve been so hard at work. Or both of you have, I should say.” Her eyes are knowing, and Bucky knows that she’s under the impression he just had sex with Steve in his office and _that’s_ why he had come out smiling. The look makes Bucky grit his teeth. What, she thinks that he’s just hanging around the guy so they can fuck? Only helping him so Steve will mess around with him in return?

It’s both ironic and irritating that she’s looking at him like this when she’s got the entire situation so horribly misread. He’s not going to bother to correct her when she’s already gone through the trouble of assuming the worst of him, either. He shakes his head and tries to walk past her, but she follows him to where he’s heading inside towards the spa area, refusing to take the hint.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Nat, but I thought you wanted me to enjoy my vacation,” he says drily. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“Well your chosen pastimes do seem pretty enjoyable,” she smirks, and Bucky barely contains the aggravated sigh he wants to let out. Barely. “Where are you off to now?”

He doesn’t want to tell her, with how smug she’s acting, but he does anyways only because he knows she won’t leave it alone if she doesn’t. “Sam told me earlier he was spending the day at the spa. Though I might see if he’s still there, maybe get myself a massage before dinner or something.”

“Getting yourself nice and loose for those _plans_ of yours?” she asks suggestively.

He clenches his jaw this time before giving her the fakest smile he can muster. “Something like that,” he says monotonously, pushing forward and through the entrance of the spa area. Natasha follows behind him, and when she can’t see, he closes his eyes briefly. Great, she’s planning on joining him. He can only hope that Sam is still here so he can act as a buffer between them and derail any invasive questions.

He approaches the desk area and decides to ask. If Sam is still here, he might not have his phone on his person, and Bucky doesn’t feel like waiting for a text back to have an answer.

“Hi,” Bucky says, smiling politely at the middle-aged woman behind the desk. “I have a friend who was supposed to come here earlier today, and I thought I might join him. May I ask if he’s still here?”

The woman nods, and picks up a sign in sheet to scan. “Name?”

“Sam Wilson.”

“He hasn’t signed out yet, and it looks like he’s in for a full treatment. Based off of the time he came in, I’d say he’s about ready to switch to his massage session, if you’d like to sign in for one as well.”

Bucky pulls out his wallet and gets his card, handing it to the woman and nodding. “I’d like that very much, thank you.”

Natasha hands her card over as soon as Bucky’s payment goes through, and he tucks his wallet back into his pocket with a sigh. Looks like it’s going to be a long afternoon. It’s barely three, which means Steve doesn’t get off for another two hours, which means their dinner isn’t for another three.

Frankly, he’s sick of waiting already.

A worker comes to retrieve them, ushering them to a room where Sam will be joining them. There are five massage chairs inside, but only three look to be set up. The worker hands them both towels and points to a curtained off area of the room, telling them they can take turns changing into them behind it. Natasha, as usual, goes first, but within the next few minutes, Bucky has stripped down and wrapped the towel around his waist so he can come out and lay himself on the massage chair furthest from where Natasha is.

She gives him an odd look, but before she can ask about it, Sam is walking in with a group of workers, smiling and looking like an emperor being waited upon, hand and foot. When he sees the both of them, his face lights up.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets them. He’s already wrapped in a towel, so he plops himself down on the chair in between them and tilts his head to face Bucky, giving him a knowing glance and raising his eyebrows. “Nice of _both_ of you to join me,” he says pointedly, and Bucky scowls at him. Thank you, Sam Wilson, but Bucky has _already_ noticed that Natasha is here and is well aware of how awkward it makes him feel. He doesn’t need a reminder.

“Yeah, carrying both our friends back to bed last night made my back feel a bit tight,” he snarks back sarcastically. “Thought this might help.” Sam just rolls his eyes, and Natasha doesn’t say anything at all.

The massage, despite Bucky’s current stressful circumstances, is immensely relaxing. He’s never been the biggest fan of having strangers touch his skin, especially with his back literally and figurately bared to them, but the kneading of his shoulders and spine wrings out a tension in him that makes him sigh once it’s gone.

By the time it’s over and done, he feels a bit liquid, sitting up and nearly groaning at the weightless feeling. Sam and Nat are still laying down, rolling over so their massages can continue, but Bucky’s decided to opt out of that portion of it. He’s already feeling good enough, plus leaving while Sam and Nat are so obviously preoccupied and not likely to chase after him means that he’ll be able to slip away quietly to get ready for his dinner with Steve.

The massage has lasted about an hour, so if Bucky heads for his room now, he’ll have a little under two hours to pull out all the stops for Steve tonight. He can admit that he’s more than a little vain, and if wearing a tank top had been enough to nearly floor the man, he can’t imagine what the reaction will be when he _really_ tries to wow him.

He’s smiling to himself a little just thinking about it, and when he waves the worker away from him and quietly tells her that he’s going to head out now, he can feel Natasha’s eyes fix on him but she doesn’t say a word when he slips behind the curtain to divest himself of the towel and change back into his own clothes. She does, however, say something when he comes back out and heads for the door.

“Have fun tonight, James,” she calls sweetly. “And don’t make yourself a stranger. It’s always good to hang out with a new _friend_ , I know, but don’t forget about your old ones.” He’s not even facing her anymore, but he’s almost positive she has the same knowing look on her face from earlier, and the sarcastic lilt her voice takes on the word _friend_ only confirms it.

He sighs and gives them both an obligatory wave, not bothering to turn back before he pushes the door open. As he’s leaving, he hears Sam’s calm voice drift out, barely catching the beginning of him saying “You shouldn’t talk to him like that…” before the door swings shut and he’s free to head back up to his room. Like he told Steve earlier, he’s only in the hundreds, so his room is right on the second floor. He makes it up there quick enough. Once he’s inside, he decides to put off his plans of getting ready for a little bit, kicking off his shoes and practically throwing himself onto the bed.

He groans in satisfaction as soon as his body hits the mattress. The luxurious softness of it plus the massage has his body practically feeling like heaven, and after all the stress he’s been put through lately, he thinks it’s well deserved. Not just the stuff with Natasha, either. His coworkers were pushy assholes about dragging him here, but they might have had a point when they said Bucky works too hard. He can’t even remember the last time he felt this close to relaxed, discomfort with Natasha aside.

He doesn’t know exactly why he’s finding himself so uncharacteristically unwound, but he has a suspicion that it’s got something to do with Steve.

Alright, fine. Bucky _knows_ that it’s because of Steve. But in his defense, he’s fairly certain that almost anyone would find themselves more laid back around the repairman, with his cheerful attitude and easy smile. He’s like a very buff ray of sunshine.

_He’s even got the level of hotness to match the metaphor_ , Bucky thinks, and since he’s in the privacy of his room with no one around to see, he lets himself crack a smile and giggle like he’s been wanting to for the past two days every time Steve so much as crossed his mind. He basks in the contentment of it for a moment, eyes falling shut and grin settling on his lips, but after a few seconds remembers that he has an agenda to stick to if he wants to woo the man he’s gone schoolgirl-sappy over in the first place.

He pushes himself up to sit on the bed, glancing at his reflection in the mirror that stands opposite to the bed and squinting while he contemplates. He probably should shower, maybe shave…or does Steve like the stubble more? Bucky sure likes _Steve’s_ stubble. He muses over it while he strips off his tank and jeans, rubbing a hand over the stubble in question and settling on keeping it when he steps into the spray of the shower.

He lets himself be pampered a little bit in the shower, using the hotel’s fancily packaged bodywash to cover himself in vanilla scented suds and scrubbing his skin until it glows a shade of pink that offhandedly reminds him of Steve’s perpetual blushing…which in turn reminds him of Steve, right as he’s absentmindedly rubbing a soaped up hand around the base of his dick. The timing of the thought and his hand straying so close to his cock leads his mind down a path to musings about Steve that are less centered around how cute Steve’s blushing is and more centered about just what Bucky wants to do to his body that will make him blush all the way down to his belly. He sucks in a breath and stills his hand, stifling himself before he gets too ramped up to stop himself.

Despite how he and Steve have flitted in and out of sexual tension during some of their conversations, innuendos and intentional teasing slipping in here and there, he doesn’t really feel comfortable with the idea of doing… _that_ with Steve in mind before he’s even gotten a first date with the guy. The sexual attraction is there, obviously. He’d like to see any male-attracted person take a look at Steve Rogers and claim themselves unaffected. Still…there’s just something about this tentative thing with Steve that makes Bucky feel averse to the idea of jerking off to him like some sort of cheap porno material when what he really wants is to take him on a date and woo him a little first. He knows that if anyone ever heard _that_ sentiment coming from Bucky Barnes, they’d laugh themselves breathless. _Bucky_? A _prude_? What’s he gonna say next, he wants to wait til marriage to stick it in his ass?

See, the thing- Bucky, as Natasha loves to frequently remind him, isn’t exactly what you would call…chaste. He’s not the rudely labelled “disaster slut” she likes to call him, either, though. He just likes sex, like all allosexual people, and he’s never been directly ashamed of that fact. Sure, he hates the way his friends rib him for partaking in hook-ups more often than actual dates, but he’s never thought there’s anything wrong with that. He just hadn’t found the right person to pursue, and was satisfied enough with throwing his passion into his work to not feel the need to search for someone, either. But he was a red-blooded gay American male with a libido that just wasn’t fully satisfied with his hand or the small collection of toys he’d picked up over the years, so one-night stands were good enough to scratch that itch. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his own and his sexual partners’, anyways, or at least, that’s what he had thought before the jokes about his promiscuity started getting thrown around the office every time he returned the next morning after declining invites to go out with his friends. Those has started off as mere annoyances, flies on Bucky’s back, but recently…recently Bucky had to admit that they were started to get a little under his skin.

He knows they’re all jokes, just an extension of the teasing their friendships were built on, but sometimes they don’t come off that way. Sometimes Bucky starts getting the feeling that they’re rooted in a real perception his friends have of him, one that he doesn’t share and isn’t sure he likes. Especially Natasha, who’s supposed to be the one that knows him best.

Bucky isn’t exactly the most open book. He’s aware that he’s often sarcastic, grumpy, and a bit exasperated most of the time, but he isn’t _mean_ or anything. That’s just how he is. He’s got a dry sense of humor, emotions that are best expressed with facial expressions over words, and a large sense of privacy. He knows that all his friends know this, have joked about all of the above at some point, but there are occasions, sometimes, where they’ll make a wayward comment about him that hurts a bit more than it should. Things like what Natasha had said to him last night concerning the seemingly ridiculous idea of _Bucky Barnes_ wanting to partake in _romance_. Things like what she had insinuated drove him to hang around Steve earlier that day.

Yeah, those hurt a bit even if he hasn’t ever directly said anything to combat it. The point is, he hasn’t ever said anything to _promote_ it, either, and that kind of assumption coming from his own best friend, someone he’s known since fucking _high school._

Mind thoroughly taken off anything resembling its previous track, Bucky sighs and drops his hand. He just- he’ll wait until he does feel comfortable with it, maybe after he’s actually gotten past the point of just friendly-flirty with Steve. Yeah, that’ll do. He finishes the rest of his shower fairly fast, taking some extra time to shampoo and condition his hair with hotel products that smell like apples and cinnamon. When he dries it off after stepping out, it comes out looking just as fluffy as the towel he used to do it, and he makes a face in the space of the fogged-up mirror he’s wiped off with his hands.

He’ll just fix it later. First, he’s got to get to his routine. He has a little over an hour left now, which is more than enough time, but again- Bucky can admit that he’s vain, and he wants to look at good as possible tonight.

His routine is nothing special, considering he doesn’t have half the products he normally uses with him. He tries to stick to it anyways, washing his face first, moisturizing and putting on sunscreen (he’s in his thirties, damnit, he needs every bit of anti-aging he can get) before patting his face dry with a hand towel and exiting the bathroom, naked save for the towel slung around his shoulders. He goes over to his suitcase, standing over it and observing his options while goosebumps start prickling down his arms and thighs. He’s cold from how damp his skin he still is, and the logical thing to do would be for him to choose an outfit as quickly as possible and get dressed. Unfortunately, Bucky is not feeling his most logical right now, and he wants the perfect outfit, so he’s just going to have to suffer for a little while.

Beauty is pain, after all.

Now, he for sure wants to impress Steve, but he doesn’t want to come off as too try hard, so the velvet blazer he’s packed is definitely out of the question. There’s also the factor to consider that he has no idea how dressed up Steve is going to get for this. He had seemed happy that Bucky was taking him to eat again- happy enough for maybe Bucky to hope that he’d get a little dressed up too, but he is meeting him just after he gets off work…on the other hand, he had made sure specifically that he’d have time to shower and get redressed, so maybe…

Bucky huffs at himself and starts digging around. He needs to quit overthinking this and just get to it. He’s got a crush on a pretty man, but he doesn’t need to be acting _this_ dumb over it. He’s a grown man- a lawyer, for god’s sake, not a teenager.

He pulls out a button up from the top, holding it contemplatively. It’s black with a daisy pattern, silky and sheer. It’s pretty, one of his favorite shirts, but he thinks it might be a little much for this occasion. But a sheer shirt- there’s an idea. He digs through to the bottom and pulls out a second option. It’s just as sheer as the previous, but it’s a clean, crisp white that he thinks compliments his complexion especially nicely when he’s got a tan like he does now. It’s dressy but casual, modest but still sheer and low cut enough to show off a hint of the skin underneath and dip below the curve of his collarbones. He grins. It’s perfect. He can even roll the sleeves up to show off his forearms with the excuse of how warm the weather is. Steve should know that’s bullshit with how he’s been wearing mostly black and skinny jeans since they’ve met, but somehow Bucky thinks he won’t mind too much.

Now that he’s picked a shirt, the rest of the outfit isn’t hard. He chooses a pair of slim-cut chinos and a pair of white trainers to go with it, setting the stack of clothes on the bed so he can pull out a pair of briefs and slide them on before he starts putting on the rest. Once he’s finished getting dressed, he takes a second to give himself a look in the mirror, nodding approvingly at what he sees. He looks good. Or he will, once he gets his hair under control.

When he returns to the mirror about fifteen minutes of blow-drying his hair later, the end result is exactly what he wants it to be. He grins at his reflection and takes a second to preen. Steve won’t know what hit him

Speaking of- Bucky checks the time on his phone. It’s only about five-thirty. He sighs and chucks his phone on the mattress, abandoning it in favor of going back to the bathroom and deciding to freshen up a bit extra instead. He’s probably doing too much for a simple _dinner_ , but he’s getting impatient and a little antsy waiting for Steve to come get him, so he busies himself with brushing his teeth and re-applying deodorant anyways. He’s mulling over adding a bit of cologne on top of it when the knock on the door comes, and he’s so startled by it that he almost drops the bottle and shatters it.

He swears quietly and sets the bottle back on the counter, heart pounding. Steve must be here. Who else could it be?

When he opens the door, that question’s unwelcome answer greets him.

He has a smile prepared, but when he sees who’s on the other side of the door, it promptly slips off his face. It’s not Steve.

It’s Sam.

Bucky blinks in surprise. “Hey,” he greets questioningly. “What’s up?”

Sam looks him up and down, taking in his appearance. He quirks an eyebrow. “Are you headed somewhere?”

Bucky almost scowls. Why is everyone always so surprised every time he does something lately? “Yeah,” he says tightly. “Dinner. Why? Do you want something?”

Sam looks curious, but he doesn’t ask who Bucky’s eating with. “Hold your horses, Barnes. Relax. I was just coming to talk to you about what’s been going on with you and Natasha, but if you’re busy, it can wait until later. Maybe tomorrow? If you’re going to be busy all night.” There’s no innuendo in his words but Bucky’s hackles still raise at the possibility of it, eyes narrowing. He searches Sam’s face for a moment, and finding nothing but honesty, sighs.

“That’s fine with me, but I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

Sam shrugs. “Sure there is. You just hate talking about things.” His voice is teasing his time, and Bucky frowns at it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, but before he can answer, he’s interrupted by a quiet cough from down the hall. He and Sam both look at the source of the sound in unison.

This time, it _is_ Steve, standing in the middle of the hallway looking sheepish. _And_ , Bucky notices, good as hell. Bucky seems to have been right. The blonde has taken advantage of his time to shower and change. His hair is fluffed up in a way Bucky hasn’t seen before and his body is outfitted in a pair of light-wash jeans that do everything for his legs, paired with a red and cream striped polo shirt on top that makes his flushed cheeks look especially rosy.

Bucky wants to eat him right up.

He’s about to give the man an approving smirk, but at the last second remembers Sam is still standing right in front of him. He schools his features into a polite smile instead, but Sam snorts, so it must not do much. He sighs in defeat, and lets his smile turn kinder. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve gives him an awkward little wave, wiggling his fingers. “Hi, Buck,” he says shyly, eyes flicking to Sam, who’s giving him an odd look that Bucky wants to smack off his face. Honestly, it’s like Bucky’s friends are _trying_ to make Steve uncomfortable. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little early,” he says apologetically.

Bucky shakes his head, trying not to look to eager about it. Hey, he can at least try to save a little face in front of Sam. “No, you’re fine. We were just finishing up here anyways,” he promises, looking pointedly at Sam. “Weren’t we Samuel?” His eyes are warning, d _on’t be a dick_.

Sam snorts again and gives the both of them a careful look, eyes calculating. “Yeah, we were,” he agrees lightly. He sounds amused. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Breakfast again?” Bucky nods, and with that, Sam is on his way. “Nice to meet you, Steve,” he says as he passes by the other man on his way down the hall. Steve smiles hesitantly at him and tips his head in acknowledgement. While Sam is walking away, he throws Bucky a look over his shoulder, one that says _we’re going to talk about this tomorrow_. He doesn’t look mad or even too surprised, but Bucky’s heart has dropped.

Great. Sam most likely has him- them?- found out. The bright side is that since it’s Sam, it’s not like he’ll tell anyone else, but still. Bucky wants _this_ , whatever it is that’s starting between him and Steve, to be just for them for the time being.

At least it isn’t Natasha.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he genuinely smiles at Steve now that he’s got him alone. “I just gotta grab my wallet and phone, then I’ll be good to go,” he says, waiting for Steve’s nod before ducking back inside his room to get the named items. He comes back out a moment later, phone and wallet in hand. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“So, what’d you do after you left?” Steve asks conversationally, walking beside him over to the elevator and punching the button on it to go down. “Did you end up going to the spa?”

“Yeah, I did. I got a massage, it felt pretty amazing,” Bucky admits, stepping inside the elevator after him. “You were right. Got all the kinks out of my back,” he adds on with a sly wink. He chuckles when Steve colors at it. “Hey, you said it first. Direct quote.”

“Save that sort of talk after you buy me dinner first, big guy,” Steve quips back, cheeks still stained pink. His eyes are dancing, and Bucky grins. Seems like Steve can throw out a little banter of his own.

Bucky kind of loves it. A lot.

“Want me to wine and dine you?” he teases, just to elicit another reaction.

Steve rolls his eyes as they both step out of the elevator and towards the restaurant entrance. “Isn’t that what you bigshot lawyers are supposed to do?”

“Since I don’t watch rom-coms, what exactly are we supposed to do?” Bucky says, arching a challenging eyebrow.

“Take pretty young things on dates to fancy restaurants,” Steve answers, smiling brightly. “I feel like I’m in _Pretty Woman_ or something.” He’s clearly joking, but there’s a hopeful glint in his eyes that encourages Bucky to get bolder.

Bucky laughs loudly at the statement, pushing inside the glass doors of the restaurant and holding one open for Steve behind him. “Well, Stevie, you _are_ awful pretty, but I’m pretty sure that we’re about the same age and this isn’t exactly what I would call fine dining. Not a woman, either, unless you forgot to tell me something,” he says in amusement, gauging Steve for his reaction. He wants to see how far he can push this.

Steve practically glows at Bucky calling him pretty, grinning bashfully and head ducking down in one of his _aw shucks_ moves. “You didn’t say this wasn’t a date, though,” he points out.

Bucky blinks in surprise. Here he was, afraid of pushing too much, but it looks like Steve beat him to the punch. Little bit of a Freudian slip on his part, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Bucky gives him a small smile, heart beating faster. “It can be if you want it to,” he says slowly.

Steve pretends to think about it as they walk up to the hostess station to get seated, tilting his head and squinting. “Hmm,” he hums contemplatively. “I think I’d like for it to be that, if you keep playing your cards right.”

“Well in that case,” Bucky says lightly, right as they reach the station. He turns to the worker manning it, flashing her his most charming smile. “You mind giving us your most romantic seating? I have a date to impress, apparently.”

Steve barks out a delighted laugh from his spot next to him. “Ignore him, Wanda, just give us whatever you’ve got.”

Wanda, who Steve must know since they’re kind of coworkers, gives them both a bemused smile. “Nonsense,” she says brightly. “Only the best for our beloved boat mechanic and his beau. I have the perfect spot for you.” Bucky shoots Steve a victorious grin, and the other man rolls his eyes as they follow behind her.

They end up seated in one of the front corners, nestled away with their meals and glasses of wine at a small table for two that has a stunning view of the waterfront through the window. The sun hasn’t quite yet started to set considering it’s only half past six, but the sight of the sun sparkling on the waves still catches Bucky’s eye for a moment. It’s beautiful, but right now he has something _else_ beautiful he’s supposed to be paying attention to, so he jerks his eyes away from the horizon and returns his attention to the man sitting across from him. He smiles when their eyes meet., and Steve does the same, face pinking.

“So…” Bucky drawls, picking up his win and taking a small sip. “How am I doing so far?” He raises his eyebrows at Steve from over the rim of his glass. He’s trying to play up his confidence, but inside he’s feeling a little nervous. He wants this dinner-turned-date to be good enough for Steve. _He_ wants to be good enough for Steve.

Luckily, Steve’s ever-present smile looks content and brighter than Bucky has seen it before. It makes Bucky feel warm just to look at. “It’s good,” Steve says happily. “I like this.”

Bucky’s mouth is open and spitting out a reflexive answer before he’s even fully thought through it. “I like _you_.” As soon as the words are out and he realizes what he’s said, he’s cringing at himself and groaning at the line, but Steve doesn’t seem to share his sentiments about it. Across the table, he’s lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Aw, Buck, are you saying you _like_ like me?” he teases, eyes crinkled with how hard he’s grinning.

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes, but fixes Steve with a look, eyes locked with his baby blues. “I might be,” he concedes.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Because for the record? I like you right back.”

Bucky’s emotions aren’t typically as easily readable as Steve’s always are, written out on his face and in the tilt of his perpetual smile, but he can’t help the way that they spill over in that moment. The grin on his face feels uncontrollable. Still, what he _really_ can’t help is being an asshole, so he tilts his head with a smirk. “Wasn’t too hard to tell with how much you’re always blushing around me,” he teases.

“Hey!” Steve sputters, glaring good naturedly at Bucky, who just smiles innocently and takes a bite of his pasta that somehow comes off as cocky. “I just burn easy, that’s all,” he huffs, digging into his own chicken and dumplings.

“Riiiight,” Bucky says skeptically, lifting a brow. Steve rolls his eyes at him and glares again, but Bucky only laughs. “Aw, don’t be sore at me, Stevie. I’m just teasin’. I’m glad you like me too.”

“Might change my mind about it, you keep up the smart remarks.” Steve’s face and tone betray his words. He’s grinning, happy and unabashed. “You’re kind of a dick,” Steve informs him.

Bucky swallows a bite of noodles and lifts his glass, almost as if in a toast to the statement. “What’s new?” he asks in amusement, taking a sip of his drink right after.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighs. “But I like you anyways,” he admits. “I’d like to get to know you better, but being around you these last few days has been good. I like it.” His expression is earnest, and the next swallow of food Bucky takes feels like it goes down hard.

It’s not hard to notice that Steve is open about most things. His expressions, his emotions, even his time, with how much of it he’s been willing to spend with Bucky these last few days. It’s a bit intimidating for someone as private and closed off as Bucky, in all honesty. But it doesn’t mean that Bucky isn’t willing to give own emotional comfort zone a little shove.

“I’d like to keep seeing you,” he says quietly. “If you want that too, of course,” he adds on hastily, but judging by the easy smile on Steve’s face, the desire is completely reciprocated.

Probably in more than one way, with how he had eyed Bucky’s ass in his chinos when he thought Bucky wasn’t watching earlier.

Steve nods, ducking his head shyly and looking pleased. His expression suddenly turns anxious a moment later, and Bucky feels his own heart rate rachet up with it. “Uh- how long are you here for?” he asks, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Despite the way it’s clearly _not_ supposed to be sexual, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes linger on the redness of it momentarily.

“We’re on a three-week trip,” he answers. “But I only live about an hour away from here. I’m from Brooklyn, though, so you can imagine how weird it was for me to move down to Florida.”

Steve’s anxiety suddenly evaporates in favor of a surprised grin. “You’re from _Brooklyn_? Me too!” Bucky’s own eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and while he’s not exactly as excited-puppy as Steve is, he’s still pleasantly shocked.

Yeah, sure, being from Brooklyn isn’t exactly uncommon. But finding another person from Brooklyn as far down South as they are? That’s something special. Not to mention they’re in Florida, for god’s sake. How many people like living in Florida, let alone want to move there? The odds are not great.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “That’s- fuckin’ amazing, what part are you from?”

“Red Hook. You?”

“Park Slope,” Bucky answers. He pauses before he asks his next question. “So- no accent? If I’da heard one it would have been a dead giveaway you were from the city. You had to’ve heard mine.” He smirks a little, thinking about how he had played it up earlier in an effort to make Steve turn red. And now it turns out he’s from the same place. “You didn’t say anything, though.”

Steve sets his fork down and gives him a rueful smile. “Ah, well- I haven’t been up that way in a long time. I don’t have any family up there anymore, and my job and friends are down here, so…the accent kinda faded over the years after I moved down here, I don’t exactly have anyone else around that has the same one…eight years ago, maybe? I was young. And I did clock your accent, but it kind of caught me off guard, so I just didn’t say anything. It’s nice to hear, though. Reminds me of home, which is always nice. I miss it.”

Bucky hopes that _caught me off guard_ also translates into something like _turns me on,_ although he knows that it’s not the point. He nods understandingly. “I moved down here about three years ago, personally. My ma and my sisters still live in the city, but they’ve spread out a bit. I know what you mean about the accent, though, I’m lucky I have my friend from the city around to help me keep from losing it.”

Steve grins and props his head on his hands, which is terrible table etiquette, but Bucky isn’t about to call him out on it with how cute it makes him look. “Maybe you could help me get mine back,” he suggests, eyes bright.

“Maybe I could,” Bucky echoes back.

The rest of their meal is spent sharing little bits of information to get to know each other a little more. Bucky finds out that he likes Steve even more after it all, and he’s hoping that Steve feels the same way about it. He finds out that Steve isn’t just a very cute and sexy boat mechanic from Brooklyn, he’s also an artist who dropped out of art school to help his mother through her cancer treatments and ended up going to trade school for mechanics because it brought in better money. As if that bit of kind-heartedness wasn’t enough to melt Bucky’s heart out of his chest, Steve’s hobbies apparently include volunteering at animal shelters and crocheting, which Bucky had assumed was a joke when it was mentioned before, but now that he knows it’s the truth he can’t stop picturing Steve knitting himself something soft and cute to wear in the winter. A rainbow sweater, or some shit.

Bucky finds his own background a little bit drab compared to what Steve has laid down, but Steve seems to be ridiculously ticked at the stories Bucky tells about growing up as big brother to three sisters who liked to braid his hair and is surprisingly interested in discussing Bucky’s own hobby of bread-baking.

Listen, what Bucky can’t punch out at the gym, he punches out while kneading dough, okay?

Their plates are clean and glasses are empty too soon. Steve looks a little dejected when Wanda comes back to clean them up, and Bucky isn’t feeling that thrilled about it himself. He decides to act on it.

“Do you guys have a dessert menu?” he asks. Wanda nods, and Steve instantly perks up, so Bucky goes on. “I’d like to see it, please,” he requests. “You up for it, Stevie?”

Steve colors at the smug look Wanda gives him when Bucky says _Stevie,_ but he follows it up with a nod. “I’m always up for dessert.”

“Sweet,” Bucky says, grinning when Wanda leaves and comes back brandishing a pair of smaller menus. “Give us a second to look?”

“Sure thing, fellas,” Wanda replies with a smile. “I’ll be right over there, just wave at me when you’re ready.”

Once she’s gone, Bucky and Steve both start mulling over their options. “I think the Jack Daniels lava cake sounds amazing,” Bucky comments. “What about you, Stevie?”

“That does sound amazing, but I’ve always been more of an apple pie boy, personally,” Steve hums.

Bucky laughs. “I should have known.”

Steve looks up at him with a suspicious expression. ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Buck?”

“It’s just- forgive me, sweetheart, but if apple pie was a person, it’d be you,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve’s indignation is overshadowed by his preening at the name _sweetheart_ coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Which was a slip up on Bucky’s end, but he’s glad to say it again if it makes Steve react like that every time.

He can’t help but wonder how Steve would react to it under _different_ circumstances, like when Bucky’s got him pinned and panting under him, or maybe on _top_ of him-

He’s interrupted from his reverie by Steve replying to him. “Are you saying if I was a flavor, I’d be apple pie?” he says slyly.

Bucky’s startled into a laugh. He’s still a little shocked every time Steve makes a racy remark, but also a _lot_ delighted by it. “You’re like the textbook definition of the All-American golden boy,” he says. “So, you know what? Yeah. You would be apple pie flavored.”

Steve tries to look annoyed, but the goofy smile on his face gives him away instantly. “Wouldn’t you like to know if that’s true,” he huffs, waving Wanda over.

Bucky winks at him. “Like you said, Stevie, lemme buy you dinner first.”

Steve looks like he wants to reply, but Wanda is up and over to him by the time he has his mouth open. “What’ll it be, boys?” she asks, taking their menus back as they hand them to her.

They both submit their respective orders and before they know it, are staring down at them hungrily on the plates in front of them.

Steve is letting out a moan that’s indecent for a public place as soon as he gets his fork in his mouth, and Bucky almost chokes on his own bite of lava cake at the sound of it. “Jesus, Stevie,” he gets out, taking a sip of water to keep his voice clear of any crumbs.

“The pie here is amazing!” Steve defends, picking up his plate and cradling it to his chest like Bucky has insulted the pie’s sensibilities itself. “How’s your cake?” he asks around a bite.

“Good,” Bucky hums, trying to come up with a more eloquent response but failing horribly with how preoccupied he suddenly is. He can’t take his eyes off of Steve’s mouth, pink tongue coming out to lick a bit of filling off his lips.

“Yeah? Apple is my favorite, but their coconut cream pie is to die for,” Steve says thoughtfully. “You should try it with me sometime. You’d love it, I bet.”

The phrases _cream-pie_ , _try it with me,_ and _you’d love it_ filter their way through Bucky’s brain in what feels like slow motion. He blinks and has to very carefully control his features. “Oh?” he says, decidedly not trying for anything harder than that single word.

Steve just nods at him and smiles, seemingly not knowing what he’s reduced Bucky to across the table. “Yeah. I’ve got a real sweet tooth.” He leans forward and pokes at Bucky’s arm. “Maybe no sense why I like you, then, huh?”

Bucky’s jostled out of his trance by the touch and smart remark. “Hey!” he scowls. “What’s that mean?”

“I think you know,” Steve sings, leaning back. He pushes away his cleaned plate, clearly done. Bucky takes one last bite of his own before doing the same, glaring at Steve mockingly.

“Was our date not romantic enough for you, sweetheart?” he says, intentionally making his words drip syrupy sweet and throwing in a that little bit of extra Brooklyn-drawl that made him go doe-eyed earlier.

It has a similar effect now. Even Steve’s ears turn pink this time, but he manages to quip back nonetheless. “I have a few suggestions for improvement,” he grins.

Bucky raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Like?”

“Wellllll,” Steve says slowly. “If we were in one of those rom-coms you made fun of me for watching earlier, you’d say we should go walk along the beach and watch the sunset so we could hold hands and kiss by the ocean.” He’s teasing, but his expression looks kind of wistful, and it makes Bucky feel like his insides have turned to mush. In a romantic way.

Steve is so obviously sappy and emotional that of course he’d want that. He’s probably dreamed about having moments like that, but by the longing in his eyes, no one’s given it to him before, which should be criminal. Luckily, although Bucky doesn’t watch rom-coms (besides _10 things I Hate About You_ , which is a classic movie and has _singing Heath Ledger_ in it, come _on_ ), he _is_ a huge romantic, so he’s more than perfectly willing to give Steve sappy-sweet first date movie-moments if that’s what he wants.

Even if it means that he has to step in sand.

He pushes back his chair from the table and gets up, gesturing for Steve to do the same. “C’mon, then.”

Steve stares at him in confusion, but gets up anyways. “What?”

“We’d better get moving if we don’t wanna miss the sunset, sweetheart,” Bucky informs him, already heading towards Wanda’s booth so he can pay the check. With Steve’s discount, as promised.

Steve follows him, red faced and open mouthed. “I was- I was _joking_ , Buck, you don’t have to just because I said it,” he tries to say, offering Bucky an out that Bucky is pretty sure neither of them want him to take.

He shakes his head. “I wanna, and I know you do too,” he insists. “It sounds nice, anyways.”

Steve bites his lip, but doesn’t deny that he _does_ in fact want it. “But you hate sand,” he protests weakly, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but I like _you_ ,” he emphasizes, getting his card out of his wallet as they approach the register. “Stop trying to argue, Stevie. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve echoes, still looking a bit confused, but overall happy and flustered. It makes Bucky grin in satisfaction.

“Good. Now how about that discount of yours?”

Five minutes later when they’re walking out the door and towards the boardwalk, Steve keeps surreptitiously reaching his hand over to knock against Bucky’s own a couple of times before he finally gets his nerve up and grabs it, lacing their fingers together and swinging their arms once Bucky squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go. They’re both smiling and happy, and even when he grimaces once he steps foot onto the sand for the first time, all Bucky can think about is how vacation might not be so bad after all if it means he gets to keep spending his days around Steve Rogers.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated.


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